


I don't wanna put you out

by twoshipsdrifting



Series: where the lights are beautiful [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Liam Payne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Idk what else honestly, M/M, Mentions of relationship violence, Omega Zayn Malik, Pining, mentions of heat, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoshipsdrifting/pseuds/twoshipsdrifting
Summary: where the lights are beautiful 'verse - Larry is only here for a blink but they're doing just fine.





	I don't wanna put you out

**Author's Note:**

> Again - completely self indulgent. Oops?
> 
> Not beta'd, not britpicked, honestly not even edited. Sorrykbye.

The memory is hazy, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten it.

He wishes he could – or… Maybe he doesn’t.

Maybe he wants to keep it forever as; well he’s not sure as what.

The closest he’s ever gotten maybe. The closest he’s ever gotten to spending his heat with anyone, let alone an alpha.

Of course, the closest he’s ever been doesn’t mean that he was really that close.

Liam wasn’t in his flat or anywhere near it.

In fact, Zayn hadn’t even really been in heat yet. Because he can remember the way he’d navigated to Liam’s name in his phone and made the decision to call him – his fingers only trembling slightly as he did.

He’d been hot, the kind of hot where sweat is curling down the dip of your spine but if a breeze happens to catch your skin you feel a chill.

And he’d been…desperate. There’s no point in playing games in his own mind.

He hadn’t been in heat but he hadn’t been in the right state of mind either.

It helps a little; to think of it that way.

The phone had rung four or five times before cutting to Liam’s voicemail and Zayn had nearly whimpered at the sound of his voice. His jaw had been clenched, lips pressed tightly together, and even his free hand caged loosely over his mouth – as if any of that could have stopped the guttural reaction. It was powerful; surging up and over his senses like a wave catastrophic enough to upend a ship.

He closes his eyes now, his stomach curling in a mix of regret and sympathy for his past self.

Zayn had ended the call without leaving a message though. He’d barely thought of anything at all before tapping Liam’s number again.

The line rang, tonal in Zayn’s ear.

“Zayn?”

_Fuck. No – fucking hell. _

How had he expected Liam not to answer?

His voice was hushed but concerned and there was a low buzz going on in the background. Zayn was mostly sure it wasn’t his ears ringing.

“Zayn?” Liam questioned again. “Are you there? Are you…alright?”

The last word was even softer, almost defeated before it left his lips. Like he knew he didn’t have the right to ask. Like maybe he hadn’t even wanted to – but his alpha instincts demanded it.

But the silence dragged on and on and Zayn knew he has to say _something_. He couldn’t just call Liam twice and then pretend it never happened.

What if Liam came over here because he thought that Zayn was hurt or needed help? What would happen then?

Zayn thought that a dark part of him already knew what would happen.

“I-” the syllable was rough; a croak.

Zayn swallowed quickly and closed his eyes before trying again.

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

It didn’t sound any worse out loud than it had in his head and he nearly apologized. Part of him was aching to, but the rest of him rebelled against it.

Liam wasn’t his alpha. Zayn didn’t _have _an alpha.

He didn’t owe anyone anything. He was his own.

There was strength in that, even if it made him feel incredibly weak in this moment.

“Alright,” Liam agreed. “Whatever you need.”

Zayn wondered which of them the sentence undid more.

_I need you _he’d thought.

But he could never, _never _say that out loud.

Even if Liam already knew – even if he suspected.

Zayn couldn’t ever give up those last few inches in this tug of war between them. He’d rather end up face down in the mud and he knew it.

“What are you up to?” Zayn asked.

He immediately winced at how lame the question sounded.

“Erm,” Liam managed. He let out a soft exhale, embarrassed? “Working.”

If Zayn hadn’t already been sitting down he thinks he would have sank to the floor at that.

He had no idea what time it even was. He knew it was midweek at least?

“God,” Zayn groaned. “I’m so sorry, Liam – I didn’t think-”

“No, stop,” Liam cut him off.

There was a clap of noise on his end and then it was perfectly quiet between them. Liam must have gone through a door to a more private area.

Zayn flushed warm with something that wasn’t quite mortification.

“It’s fine, Zayn,” Liam stressed then. “I know you’re…” he drifted, obviously unsure how to navigate the fact that Zayn was nearly in heat and they weren’t committed.

They were something. But Zayn wasn’t sure what it was, because he knew what they couldn’t be.

“I’d like to help,” Liam said softly. “If I can.”

Zayn nearly whimpered again. He caught it in time, but he’d panicked and pulled the phone away from his face just in case something came out.

He exhaled before lifting the phone again.

His thighs were tense, his legs pulling together in a silent plea. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to feel so empty.

Just for a split second, he imagined Liam between his legs. He’d be shirtless, his spine curving down as he bent to kiss Zayn.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

A desperate hope that could never be answered.

Liam was so close, Zayn could have him if he only asked. He knew he could.

But that line couldn’t be uncrossed.

“Tell me what you would do,” Zayn said suddenly, “if you were here.”

He wasn’t sure what made him snap. He wasn’t sure how Liam could possibly answer him. But in that moment, he didn’t care.

On the other end of the line, Liam was silent.

It didn’t scare Zayn, though he almost thought that it should.

Instead, he was strung tight with anticipation.

“I would kiss you,” Liam admitted. “I would kiss you until you begged me for more and then I’d keep kissing you until I decided that I had to taste more of you. Taste lower. To your neck, across your shoulder, and then down your chest. You’d let me see the rest of your tattoos, wouldn’t you?”

Zayn thought he might have exploded were it not for the fact that Liam was continuing, and he was breathlessly hanging on every syllable.

“I’d do whatever you asked me to, Zayn. I’d be yours – the moment you asked. I’m not one of those alphas that wants conquests. I don’t need to try and prove anything by how many betas and omegas I can bed.” Liam took a breath, the intake of air making Zayn press the phone even closer to his ear.

He’s curled up mostly on his side on the couch now, his free hand fisted in the leg of his joggers as he listens to Liam.

“And I’d make you mine.”

It doesn’t sound like Zayn thought it would. Scary, like a threat. It sounds like an offer or a promise or…he’s not sure what else. It just sounds like more.

“Li…”

Liam didn’t say anything, he waited for Zayn to continue instead.

It gave Zayn a burst of hope.

Maybe…

Could Liam claim him and still give him room to breathe?

Two things happened too quickly for Zayn to stop or stall either.

One: he got hard. Two: he realized he was being illogical.

Liam was dangerous. The way he made Zayn feel was dangerous.

“I have to go.”

But he didn’t take the phone away from his face, he waited.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said in a rush. “That was too much, I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t wrong.

But Zayn’s been full of contradictions lately – because Liam said almost exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I just have to go,” Zayn repeated.

He ended the call and threw his phone across the room as hard as he could.

It hit the base of his floor lamp, making it crash to the floor as well.

Zayn didn’t stand to pick up his phone or right the lamp.

He was still hard and worse, he could feel himself starting to get wet.

It was only after his heat that Zayn found his phone, not only dead from lack of battery but with a shattered screen.

He should go out today and get a new one.

There’s hardly any food left in his kitchen and he can’t really afford to keep ordering delivery on his laptop.

Of course if he had said yes to Liam he wouldn’t be in this situation now.

Liam would have taken care of him. Liam would still be taking care of him.

But, Zayn didn’t know at what cost.

If only, if only.

…

The next day, Zayn is on his couch still procrastinating going out.

There’s a knock at the door and then a second later two hands are clearly pounding on it.

Sighing heavily, Zayn opens the door to reveal Louis.

“Okay, you’re alive. So, why the fuck are you not answering your phone?”

Zayn hesitates then turns and walks back into his flat without answering.

“I’ve been worried,” Louis adds, closing the door and following him.

“Sorry,” Zayn manages, trying to somewhat smooth his hair with one hand. “It’s broken.”

Louis tosses himself down on the beanbag chair closest to the door.

“Why is your phone broken?”

“Because, I broke it, Lou. What do you think?”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, he gets up and walks into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Zayn protests, knowing it’s already too late.

Louis is back in under a minute, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping determinedly at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Zayn questions, half afraid of the answer.

“I’m texting Harry to go get you some groceries. He’s waiting in the car because we didn’t know what we were walking into, if your heat had run over or what.”

“I don’t need-”

“Yes, you do. And go shower, you still stink like heat.”

Zayn could throw a fit. He could kick Louis out of his flat and tell him not to come back. He almost wants to.

But, what good would it do?

Instead, he pushes back to his feet and shuffles toward his bathroom, making sure the room to his door is shut on the way.

If he smells he hardly dares imagine what state his room is in.

While Zayn is washing his hair the bathroom door opens but Louis doesn’t say anything before leaving again.

When Zayn emerges from the shower there’s a towel and clean clothes waiting for him on the sink.

He has to sigh.

It’s hardly Louis’s and Harry’s job to be taking care of him post heat.

He’s supposed to be able to get a mate or handle it himself, this is just pathetic.

Still, he has little choice but to dress and exit the bathroom.

Louis is waiting in the living room and Zayn can hear someone in the kitchen so he assumes Harry did actually get groceries.

“You guys didn’t have to do that,” Zayn sighs. “But, thank you.”

“How are you?” Louis asks.

“Better.”

“Better, but not great?”

Zayn nods after a moment. He rounds Louis to sink onto the couch against the wall.

“Your phone?”

There’s no point in avoiding it.

Liam and Harry were friends before Louis or Zayn met either of them. Louis probably already knows what happened. Or he can at least fill in the blanks.

“I called Liam,” he admits. “Said things I shouldn’t have. So, I…threw it.”

“I broke a lamp fighting with Harry once,” Louis says. “I tried to throw it, but it was still plugged in.”

It surprises a quick laugh from Zayn.

“I didn’t know you spoke to him,” Louis continues, surprising Zayn again.

“He didn’t tell Harry?”

“No,” Louis says, after thinking for a moment. “Or Harry has gotten better at lying.”

“Hey,” Harry protests from the kitchen before emerging. “I’m not sure keeping you from poking around in my head counts as lying.”

Louis shrugs, unbothered.

For his part, Zayn takes a moment to marvel at them.

They navigated each minefield in their relationship and came out on the other side even stronger for it.

He’d never thought it was possible for it to have worked out as well as it had.

What if…?

Zayn gives himself a firm mental shake.

That’s the last thing he needs to think about.

“Liam checked if we had heard from you but he didn’t tell us anything happened,” Harry explains.

His eyes are assessing and Zayn quickly drops his gaze, his stomach threatening to turn.

_Fucking alphas_.

This is exactly why he can’t do this. This is exactly why he can never do this.

Maybe he can settle down with a beta someday but…he can’t be bending to someone else’s whims as soon as they snap their fingers.

“Well, you can tell him I’m fine.”

“Or you could,” Harry challenges.

“Phone’s broken.”

“Alright, alright, let’s just calm down,” Louis cuts Harry off. “We’re here to be _helpful_.”

“Liam’s been worried, you’ve been worried, we’ve all been worried.”

“Yes, well, Zayn is an adult and no offense love, but you don’t get it.”

For a tense moment Zayn thinks Harry is going to protest this. Finally, he dips his head – deferring to Louis’s judgement.

“You’re right. I don’t understand Zayn’s fear. But neither of you understand Liam either. Alpha’s don’t just get to control everything. Not when,” he visibly hesitates and miraculously, Louis doesn’t interrupt him again, “not when there are feelings involved. It’s our job to take care of you and make you happy and we can’t do that if you’re miserable.”

“Feelings aren’t involved,” Zayn says, mulish.

Neither of them say anything in response, which is a bit offensive.

But he can still remember the way Liam’s voice had cradled the words _I’d be yours – the moment you asked_.

Had he meant it?

“Look, thanks for checking up on me and the food and all but, I’m still pretty tired.”

“Zayn, you’re my best friend. You don’t have to thank either of us. We’ll get out of your hair though.”

Louis doesn’t cross to him, though it looks like he wants to.

“Feel better.”

“Thanks.”

…

A week passes and then another.

Zayn gets a new phone. He gets his new suppressants. Most importantly, he gets back to work.

He doesn’t hear from Liam. He doesn’t reach out either.

Instead, he pretends that it’s not happening.

Liam is just Harry’s friend. That’s all.

Most of the time, Zayn can pretend.

…

Zayn gets gallery spots every couple months and they usually get him a few commissions to float him until the next one.

Once in a while he even sells something he actually wanted to paint.

He’s not entirely expecting Liam to show up though.

The show starts at seven but people don’t usually start showing up until closer to eight.

Which means Liam is one of the first people through the doors.

Zayn can’t avoid him.

Louis and Harry aren’t even here as a buffer.

_Damn_.

“Hey,” Liam greets, pairing it with a tentative smile. “This is really cool.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Is it alright that I’m here?”

The question shocks Zayn enough that it takes him a few seconds to respond.

“Yes. I – of course.”

His face feels blisteringly hot and Zayn desperately hopes no one is bored enough to listen to their conversation. He can hardly pull off the disinterested artist vibe with Liam here making him feel weak in the knees.

“You can tell me if it isn’t.”

He thinks Liam is pressing him but gently, like maybe he understands Zayn.

“It doesn’t really work like that,” Zayn mumbles.

Even as he says it, he doesn’t know how it does work.

He just knows that Liam terrifies him.

“I’ll go,” Liam says, already turning away.

“No, I-” the first word was out too quickly and Zayn doesn’t know how to follow it. He’s already betrayed himself though. “I don’t want you to,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll be busy though. Potential clients and all that.”

“Okay.” He looks relieved. “I’ll hang out. I just…I’m not here to force you into anything Zayn. I’m here because I want to be but I’m not going to pressure you into what I want. I’m not that guy, I promise.”

“What do you want? I mean,” Zayn pauses, his tongue flicking over his dry lips. “What would it be like, if we dated?”

Liam’s dark brown eyes watch him intently.

“I’d probably ask if I could buy you a drink after this.”

“After that?”

“Make sure you got home safely,” Liam says.

Zayn’s heart beats faster.

“And then I’d go home,” Liam finishes. His eyes are sparkling as if he knows exactly what Zayn was thinking. “I would definitely text you after though.”

“No playing hard to get?”

“Don’t really see the point.”

One of the gallery employees approaches, half nodding to Liam before cupping a hand on Zayn’s shoulder and leaning in to speak directly into his ear.

“I want you to get laid just as much as you want to get laid, believe me buddy, but you’ve got other things to focus on just now, right?”

“Thank you, Niall,” Zayn says, half tempted to chuckle even as he disentangles himself. “Sorry,” he says to Liam, “duty calls.”

Liam nods easily, turning to make his way to another artist’s section.

Niall salutes Zayn before taking his leave as well and Zayn can turn to the couple hovering a few feet away.

Nearly two hours later, Zayn notices a red dot beneath not one but two of his paintings.

He hadn’t remembered anyone discussing them with him and tries to glance around subtly for Liam.

If he bought them as some sort of seduction technique…

Zayn thinks that part of him will be pleased at the idea but the rest of him will probably be pissed.

He doesn’t see Liam but he does catch sight of a suspicious head of curls. Where Harry is, Louis most certainly is not far behind.

Zayn takes another look around before making the decision to leave his area again, stalking through the diagonal walls of paintings and photographs until he finds his best friend.

“Did you buy my shit?”

“Hello to you too,” Louis sniffs. “What a lovely evening we’re having.”

“Louis.”

“No,” Louis says with a quick eyeroll. “Harry did. He’s the rich one, remember. And you’re welcome.”

Zayn can’t hide his relief.

“What? Who did you think it was?”

“No one, shut up.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, he just smirks.

It’s worse than any teasing about Liam and Zayn turns away without another word, heading for the refreshments table.

By the end of the night Zayn is ready to eat three meals and fall face first into bed.

It’s too bad Liam is a man of his word because whether he left and came back or stayed the whole time – he’s here now.

Zayn tries to summon a smile.

“Hey.”

Are they still supposed to be going out? Was that only a hypothetical discussion?

“Can I drive you home?”

“Ugh, _yes_. Can we stop for food on the way?”

“Sure,” Liam says, his features settling into an easy grin that makes Zayn feel warm.

“Thanks.”

Zayn is happy, full, tired, and oddly comfortable by the time they park on the street outside his flat.

“Can I walk you in?” Liam requests after watching him for a moment.

“Um,” _crap_, there goes that comfort. “Yeah…” Zayn says – because he doesn’t have a good reason to say no.

He turns toward the passenger door, freezing when he feels a warm hand closing over his arm just above his wrist.

“You can say no,” Liam reminds him. He releases Zayn’s wrist and sits back. “Can I ask you something before you go, though?”

Zayn finds himself flummoxed by Liam again.

“Sure,” he says, much quieter than he means to.

“Can I commission you? For a painting?”

It’s not until the question is out that Zayn realizes he’d been expecting Liam to ask him out.

“Of course,” he manages, briefly stumbling over the words. “What do you want? Um…”

It wasn’t the normal ordering process, that was for sure.

“I can text it to you,” Liam says, ever kind. “Get some rest, okay?”

…

The text is waiting for him the next morning and it takes Zayn a trip to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to understand what it means.

_red pink gold – trust _it says.

The commission.

Liam sent the colors and theme.

It isn’t subtle and Zayn wonders how pink his cheeks are thinking about it.

Zayn is going to spend hours working on a piece for Liam about _trust_.

He starts on it immediately; barely drinking a cup of coffee before setting a blank canvas on his easel and stepping back again.

Red. Pink. Gold.

But Zayn can’t pour paint yet. He’s not ready for that. He needs to think about this. He needs to think about what he really wants this piece to be – because it’s clear that Liam wants a piece of him.

Zayn has to decide what he’s willing to part with.

Of course, he could short cut it. He could just throw paint on the canvas, wait a few days, and ask Liam for payment.

Liam would pay for it, no matter what Zayn produced.

Zayn might not trust him as an alpha but he does trust him at least on a decent person level. He knows Liam wouldn’t try and skirt the agreement.

Already, Zayn doesn’t want to do that.

It isn’t just that art can be a cutthroat business.

This is what he loves. He won’t sell anything he doesn’t love.

He never has and he doesn’t plan on changing it ever.

So Liam will get a painting from him. He’ll get a _great _painting.

But so far, that’s all Zayn knows about it.

He stalks away from the canvas, thinking about shapes as they extrapolate in his mind.

What does trust look like? What does it feel like?

Does he want to show the sharp edge of it? The steep incline of the risk?

Or…

…

The painting is beautiful. It ripples and loops from the center of the canvas in cascading waves of watercolor and sheen.

Zayn didn’t want this piece to be hard – at his core…he isn’t.

He wants it to be the soft side of trust; the safe side. He wants it to be real.

Looking at it he’s not entirely sure how he feels about giving it to Liam.

Not just showing it to Liam, but Liam _owning _it. Liam thinking of Zayn every time he looks at it.

Assuming he keeps it.

The feeling makes Zayn’s chest pinch and he has to walk away from it every time.

He hasn’t told Liam that it’s finished yet. He knows he has to, eventually.

But there’s a small, scared part of Zayn that feels sick every time he thinks about it.

As the days pass, the feeling only gets worse.

Soon enough the spare room he uses as a studio has the door closed. He hesitates before walking past it.

His stomach is permanently in knots and he’s been ignoring texts and the urge to eat with any regularity.

That’s what sends him to a coffee shop just before eleven in the morning – avoiding his phone and getting something small to eat that he doesn’t have to prepare.

He also figures the bags under his eyes won’t be commented on if he’s buying coffee. Maybe?

The thing about problems though, is that they tend to follow you around.

In the coffeeshop there’s a small flat screen above the counter and a standard news report is on – but this one is about the murder of an omega.

Zayn stiffens where he’s standing in line already knowing, dreading what the conclusion of the story will be.

Sure enough, the picture of the smiling omega fades into a mugshot of the alpha who either was their mate or felt entitled to the position.

Zayn can’t hear the words. There’s a faint buzzing in his ears and he just stares at the screen. He watches the news anchor’s plum painted lips move with her hands folded carefully on the desk in front of her to show her compassion for the poor omega.

_Poor little omega_, Zayn thinks.

He glances around the shop, wondering how many alphas are in here right now. Do any of them think she deserved it?

Zayn’s hands curl into tight fists.

He knows if Harry or Liam were here they wouldn’t be one of those alphas. He knows they’re not like that.

But…

How well do you ever really know someone?

The world is closing in on Zayn now, noises overlapping as he starts to panic.

He needs to get home. More than that, he needs to get that painting out of his apartment.

…

Liam arranges to come over after work and Zayn doesn’t push it, even though he knows the longer he’s alone with the painting the more he’ll be tempted to destroy it.

He’s determined though, keeping the door of his studio firmly closed and distracting himself on his laptop.

Once the painting is gone he can start a new piece and it can be angry, it can be tattered, – it can be his fear.

Liam is prompt at least, knocking on Zayn’s door just before six.

He doesn’t greet Zayn when the door opens though, instead taking half a step forward with a concerned look on his face.

“What is it?” Liam asks softly, still wary of spooking Zayn. Always wary.

He was right to be.

“Nothing,” Zayn says, and then, “I’m fine.”

The words come out robotically and he turns away from Liam totally, heading for his studio.

“It’s in here.”

Liam doesn’t protest, he just closes the door behind himself and follows.

Zayn stops at the door, taking a deep breath with his hand on the knob.

“What’s wrong?” Liam prompts again.

“I’m not what you want. I can’t be.”

Zayn twists the knob and shoves the door open, hard enough that it bangs into the wall behind it. He doesn’t turn to look at Liam, nor does he step into the studio.

“Can you just take it? Please?”

“I will if you want me to.”

“I do,” Zayn insists. His throat goes tight and he tries to clear it, finally stepping aside.

It takes Liam a moment to find the light switch and flick it on. He walks into Zayn’s studio and looks at the canvas.

Zayn can’t move, even though he can see Liam’s expression from this angle.

This is…

Zayn can’t look away even as his eyes desperately don’t know _where _to look.

Liam is seeing him. He’s _seeing _him.

He’s seeing exactly what Zayn wants and is too damn scared to reach out and take.

But he can’t. He just can’t.

“Zayn, this is beautiful,” Liam says, his voice hushed and reverent. He drops his chin, looking down to his toes instead of back at Zayn. “Can you just trust me for a few seconds and tell me what’s wrong? You can paint this for hours thinking about trust…can you just-”

“I don’t cook,” Zayn blurts out. “I never learned. I hate getting up in the morning and cleaning the bathroom is my least favorite thing in the world. I’m not organized, I’m not tidy, I’m not ready to take care of anyone. And I’m so scared – I’m so damn scared all the time, Liam. Do you know what it’s like to be an omega? To listen to stories about omegas getting assaulted and killed nearly every day? How can I ever let anyone in with all of that out there?”

Liam waits. He seems to just know there’s more.

Maybe it’s only logical to think that there is.

“I can’t have kids.”

“But you just-”

“Had a heat. I know. But it’s…it’s complicated. I could physically get pregnant. But it would be too dangerous for me to carry a baby. I’m only omega enough to get all of the bad things. None of the good.”

Zayn’s drained in every way standing there.

He feels as if he’s been trying to run from this for so long, knowing he could never escape it.

It wasn’t even Liam, not really.

There’s been boys. There’s been girls. Betas. Alphas. Even once another omega.

But Zayn was always too scared. He’d never done more than a fumbling kiss or two at a party. Being exposed… Being vulnerable…

He’s never known how.

Liam approaches, hands raised warily.

Zayn bats at them when he gets too close, realizing abruptly that he’s breathing too fast and crying.

“We don’t have to talk about that right now, I don’t even know if I want kids.”

“We do have to talk about it,” Zayn says. “Right now, right out the gate, because it’s not negotiable.”

“You putting my feelings over your health is not negotiable either, Love. Can you breathe for me, please?”

Liam is still standing too close but he doesn’t try to touch Zayn again.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

“No,” Zayn says immediately, horrified. “I’m fine.”

“If we even do this we can adopt,” Liam says, sliding his hands down Zayn’s upper arms before bring them back up and repeating the motion. “I think maybe you were right this whole time. This isn’t a good idea.”

Against all his better instincts, Zayn wraps a fist in Liam’s shirt and hauls him closer.

Liam’s arms go around Zayn and Zayn curls into his chest, elbows tucking into both their stomachs to fit.

“I don’t want to be right,” he mumbles.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” Liam whispers.

“You should get some rest, let’s get you into bed,” Liam suggests eventually.

Zayn doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want Liam to leave.

“Don’t,” Zayn protests when Liam’s arms drop away.

“Don’t what, Darling?”

“Don’t hurt me,” Zayn says.

Which. Is not what he meant to say.

He meant to say _don’t leave _or _don’t move yet _or maybe even _stay_. Not that.

“What if you hate my favorite color?” he demands, because he has to say _something_.

“What?”

“What if I’m allergic to your favorite food? What if you hate my mum’s cooking? What if-”

“What if it works?”

That’s the thing about exposing yourself Zayn thinks.

Once you both know the game one of you has to win and one of you has to lose.

“What if _we _work?”

Zayn doesn’t know how to answer.

He’d never been able to examine that question for longer than a few minutes.

“Zayn,” Liam prompts, drawing his attention again. “What do you want, right now?”

Ridiculously, taking in Liam’s impossible brown eyes and his plush lips, all Zayn can think about is…trust.

“I want you to stay.”

…

Zayn wakes earlier than he anticipated. But he supposes he went to sleep earlier than he anticipated too.

He’d slept well but he still feels that gritty tiredness that always accompanies a massive outpouring of emotions.

Everything seems further away though, including Liam who is not still in bed with him.

Zayn gets out of bed slowly, stretching his arms and back before venturing into the short hall.

Liam’s still in the flat, shooting to his feet in the living room as he hears Zayn.

“You’re up,” he says, his voice oddly husky. “I didn’t expect you awake so early.”

“I’m normally not I-” Zayn cuts off sharply, realizing that he was about to admit he’d slept so well with Liam beside him he’d quickly noticed his absence. “Are you alright?” he questions instead, noticing for the first time that Liam’s eyes are glassy.

“Course.”

But there’s nothing behind the assertion.

Zayn frowns.

He knows Liam is lying – and he wants to know the truth. He’s just not sure he has the right to push it.

“I think I missed you,” Zayn admits quietly. “I think that’s why I woke up.”

Liam is quiet a long moment before sighing.

“You have to ask me for what you want. And if I can, I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to trust you…but I think I’ll always be afraid.”

“I’m scared too,” Liam says. “You know that, right?”

“But what do you have to be scared of?”

“Most of the things you do. Bonds go both ways.”

He was right. Of course.

Zayn had seen the changes in Harry himself.

Louis had changed too.

But it was almost as if they’d changed together. Or…moved together. Into their correct place.

Like that cliché about puzzle pieces.

“Can you just…come closer?”

Zayn still doesn’t know what he wants. But he thinks maybe he can just wing it until he does know.

Liam brushes both hands down the front of his wrinkled t-shirt. He does as Zayn asked.

“Closer,” Zayn says, when Liam stops about a foot away.

The couch and coffee table aren’t between them anymore.

Zayn doesn’t think he cares.

“I want,” he pauses and then scoffs, irritated with himself. “I want you to kiss me…I think.”

Liam’s lips curl and ducks his chin, thumb scratching at his jaw briefly.

“Well, don’t put me on the spot or anything.”

Zayn smiles too and Liam uses the split second to slip his mouth over Zayn’s and away again.

It was over in a moment, so fleeting that Zayn immediately runs his tongue over his lips – trying to catch even a taste of it.

Still, that one brush of lips is enough to set his nerve endings tingling and he feels breathless looking up into Liam’s eyes.

“Is that all?”

Liam shrugs.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Or do you still need to think about it?”

“I don’t need to think about it,” Zayn counters almost immediately. “I want you to kiss me again. But properly. After breakfast. And brushing our teeth. And…” he hesitates, hopeful, “more sleep?”

Liam’s cheeks are flushed but he’s grinning, tension melting out of his body in relief.

“Which part’s first then?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, taking Liam’s hand and pulling him back toward the bedroom.

He doesn’t feel the need to say anything when Liam’s fingers slip between each of his.

…


End file.
